Connect with us

The Laughing Stork

Warning: Do Not Piss Off the Mama Lioness

Candy's Column

Warning: Do Not Piss Off the Mama Lioness

There are three constants in life that make my claws come out:  1)  Bad drivers; 2) People who hold full conversations with me without ever making eye contact; and 3)  Servers who try to take my margarita glass before I’m done with my drink.

On our vacation, however, I discovered there is something that not only makes the claws come out, but also fills me with an overwhelming urge to insert them into a certain person’s eyeballs — that person being a stranger talking sh*t about my child.

We were at a restaurant grazing on shrimp appetizers and enjoying the ocean view — don’t pity us too much — when Miss Skye, overcome with happiness, as she was so many times during our trip, grabbed my face and gave me a kiss.  Her kisses have evolved from the original open-mouthed dive to a plant-my-mouth-on-your-cheek-and-kinda-nibble technique that evokes memories of my first real make-out session in the movie theater where Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles was playing.  Only Miss Skye is much cuter, more innocent and less sloppy than that braces-clad amateur kisser.

These nibbles can be painful, but they’re not bites.  Vampire Baby has bitten me on the shoulder, on the arm and on the neck, so I know what her bites feel like.  Like, OUCH.  They leave a mark.  I think they’re Skye’s way of marking her territory.  Because if I so much as glance at another baby, she screams and shoots me a look that says, I will not hesitate to pee on you, woman, if that’s what it takes. It’s very similar to the look her father gives me on my way out the door for a girls’ night out.

These nibbles, on the other hand, are just Skye’s way of feeling out this kissing nonsense.  Let’s face it:  the ability to properly pucker up isn’t innate.  In fact, some people never figure it out.  Mr. Candy estimates Skye will finally be prepared to kiss a boy in about forty years.  Give or take a decade.

As I extracted my little nibbler from my face, I saw a woman at the table next to us gesturing wildly and glancing over at us every, oh, three seconds or so.

…And then she BIT HER CHEEK!

I could hear the woman declaring this to her fellow diner clear as day.  As though she wanted me to hear her.

If I had a child, I would never stand for that.

That’s right.   I was a bad mother because I embraced my daughter’s bumbling shows of affection.  But I think I deserved some positive mommy points for only visualizing giving the woman the finger, rather than actually giving it to her.  Right?

If Skylar had just turned her head, I totally would have given the woman the finger.

Not wanting to make a scene (clearly, I was sober), I pointedly stared at the woman instead.  I’d like to think my piercing gaze effectively conveyed my message:  a powerful combination of Seriously?  I AM SITTING RIGHT NEXT TO YOU, YOU IDIOT! and I will not hesitate to pee on you, woman, if you talk about my child again.

Because sharing is caring, as I tell my kids. (Except my wine. Never my wine.)
Share on Facebook
Facebook
Tweet about this on Twitter
Twitter
Pin on Pinterest
Pinterest

Candy Kirby is the founder of The Laughing Stork and a professional fun-maker who will never stop chasing her lifelong dream: to find the Pomeranian or porn star after whom her parents must have named her. A humor columnist for Disney, Nickelodeon, Scary Mommy, Reductress and Redbook, she also used to be a staff writer for the soap opera, The Bold and the Beautiful, where she penned many scripts featuring prolonged heated stares and countless “Who’s the Daddy?” story lines. Candy lives in Los Angeles with her husband, two young kids and three rescue Persian cats, the latter of whom are the real brains behind this operation (so send all complaints to them).

More in Candy's Column

To Top